"I have a weak hand,' said May, but I have an inventive head; and since ye say and vow that ye winna wed Sir John wi' free will, but wad rather take the lad of Locherben in his sark than the tither in his jewelled robe, I'll see what can be done. But ye maun leave it a' to me; neither make nor meddle, neither look sad nor satisfied; but be resigned, as a modest lady should; I'll bring ye off with flying colours, even though ye were laid in your bridal-bed, and Sir John stood wi' his hand on the hasp of the door.'

I'll leave it a' to thee, then,' said the Fair Maid of Monkland, 'for I read truth and sincerity on your brow; but deceive me not: my father's dagger is still near my hand, and should danger come, or treachery be practised, it will be seen that I can use it!'

“I'll give ye leave,' replied the bower-maiden, 'to use it on me when I prove treacherous. Yet ye should remember that the wisest of human schemes gae sometimes wrong; but this is mair than a mere human scheme, and it canna fail, and it shanna fail!'

"On this they parted. The lady I went to her secret bower, and sat at the window that looked towards Locherben; and the bower-maiden went to her chamber, and stayed there till nigh midnight; and when all the tower was in slumber, away she went, with honey in one hand and sweet cream in the other, to the keep of the tower, where all the armour and swords hung. She placed the silver salvers with the honey and the cream before her, and saying, 'Come hither, Brownie,' sat silent for a little space. Now ye maun ken, that this elfin sprite whom she called Brownie was a sort of half-deevil and halfman, who never stirred himself about the tower save when the house or the family was in danger, and wha, moreover, was never seen save by this very May Fleuchar, or by some of the favoured servitors lang syne. He started up suddenly at May's side, and said, sharply,—

"What want ye now? I have reaped the croft,-I have thrashed the corn, I have saved the sheep from the snow-wreath and the lambs frae the tod,-what want ye next? Am I to slave for ever and

ever for those who winna help themselves?'

"Eat that honey and sup that cream, and then I'll tell thee,' replied May Fleuchar, wha kenned the nature of all things, and could speak to all, after their station or their kind, whether saint or deil.

"To this sweet supper the Brownie fell, taking mouthfu' of drappit honey and of sweet cream time and time about, making the tane kitchen the tither; though I kenna whilks the sweetest. And when baith were done, round turned the elf to May, and said, while its brown bosom was bedropped with both honey and

cream,

"Ye needna tell me what ye want; for I can read your thoughts, and I am ready and willing to do all you desire; but ye maun let me tak a kiss first-there! Ah, that's sweeter than baith the honey and cream!'

"Brownie!' said May, 'ye ought to be cuffed for breaking yere word, and taking twa; but I forgive ye—I forgive ye; and she rose to depart, saying, Mind and do as I wish, since ye can read my wishes. Now tell me what my wish is, and I'll believe ye.'

"The Brownie replied, 'The bridal-day is Friday, and the bridal spot the altar of Crossmichael Kirk. Now, ye desire and as he said this, the elfin put his brown hands on his hairy sides, and laughed till all the armour clattered on the walls, the swords half sprung out of their sheaths, and the very doves flew up frae the dove-cot half way to the

stars.

“I vow, May,' he exclaimed, ‘by the faith of an elf, that ye are a witty quean. Sae ye wish me to go to the palace of the Kelpie, in the lake; persuade him to turn himself into an ambling nag with golden garniture on fit for a proud bridegroom; take the place of Sir John's steed, and when he gets the knight on his back, give him a canter owre the Ravencrag; and when his neck 's broken, let them mend him that can!'

"Brownie!' said May, ye have na read my thoughts aright. I desire nae broken necks; that wad trouble the tower with a foul corse, and might be misunderstood. Na, na, Brownie, ye've supped owre mickle honey and cream; and that,

wi' the extra touch of mortal lips, has made ye duller than ye're wont. What's to hinder the Kelpie, when he gets the bridegroom on his back, to take the bridle atween his teeth, and seek his ain palace in the Kelpie Loch, and let the knight find his way back how he can ?'

"The Brownie laughed louder than ever. I called ye a witty quean,' he said; and now I may ca' ye a wicked one. But there's nae

great wickedness, after a'; for were he not drowned by the Kelpie, he should be strangled by me, and a' for stabbing his friend i' the dark, and for daring to bed with my bonnie young mistress. Now, away with you. I have spoken mair to a mere mortal to-night than I have spoken before since Eve sinned; and a penance must be endured for the same.' May ran up to her chamber, which opened on the Kelpie Loch; and looking from the casement, saw the Brownie, at three strides from the tower, reach the lake; heard him give an eldritch squeal, which made all the wild teals start from the reeds, and brought up the Kelpie in the shape of an aged man, with a mane of hair down his back, and eyes which shone like-shooting stars. Down they sat on the gowany bank, and lang and, nae doubt, satisfactory, was their conference.

"Weel, ye see, the bridal-day dawned at last; the sun raise resolved to shine its best; the bridegroom came glittering in silk and scarlet, and fine twined linen, and needle-work of Brussels, if not of Egypt. The very hilltops were crowded with anxious faces, for a sough had run round the land that something queer might be expected. Ane thought that the bride wad take the gee; and anither thought that

young Locherben wad go and cut the bridegroom's thrapple, and go to bed in his stead. But deil a ane kenned rightly what was to happen but May, the bower-woman, and the page that rode by her side. The bridegroom and his party had but five miles to ride, yet all their horses looked as if their way had been through water save the horse of the knight himself: it had not a turned hair on its skin; and for beauty and grace of motion was the wonder of all who looked at it. I shall give it to my fair bride,' said the bridegroom; as soon as she is mine, it shall be hers.' The fair maid had not yet opened her lips; she looked a little pale, as young brides do: nor did she once turn her eyes on her bower-woman, who rode at her ease, and looked resolute and composed. The way to Crossmichael Kirk lay along the side of the Kelpie Lake. When they came to this very stane on which I sit, a horse, or something in its shape, rose from among the reeds and nichered; and the page-and wha was it but Brownie!-waved his arm, and uttered a scream sae wild and thrilling, that it would have shaken the very nuts from their husks had the nuts then been ripe. As it was it startled the whole band; and Sir John's horse, uttering a neigh in chorus with that elfin cry, dashed at once into the Kelpie Lake at the deepest place and disappeared. Ance gane, and aye gane-neither Sir John nor his horse were ever seen mair. The bridal train could scarcely sit in their saddles with astonishment. The bower-maiden, only whispered to the page,Deftly done, Brownie - ye shall have honey and cream, and maybe a kiss too for that.' So that is the tale of wicked Sir John and the Fair Maiden of Monkland.'"

pay

AFTER a famous dinner at the Euston, of which the only unpleasant part was the last - I mean the ing of the bill-I took leave of my dear Higgins (who, by the by, discharged the little account), and at a quarter to nine found myself in a snug corner of one of the huge coaches of the Derby train. The

lamp was lighted within; the people were pressing round the vehicles, offering oranges, maps, and evening papers for sale; and having selected some of the former and the latter (the fruits have neither the flavour, nor have the journals the talents, of ours in the new country), I sunk back in the luxurious conveyance, and discussed one and the other.

I had, for quiet's sake, selected a carriage in which there was no other passenger; but could hear my neighbours in the next compartment talking loudly of the then all-engrossing theme in the country,—the elections. One of these gentlemen was no doubt a member of government, for I observed him at the booking-office descend from one of her majesty's carriages. It had the royal crown of England emblazoned on the panel with the letters V.R., and the Arabic numerals 993 inscribed underneath.

I argued from this that the queen of Great Britain kept at least one thousand carriages; and if the appointments of the coachman (who was dressed in a loose frock of com

mon brown kersey, and had his hat surrounded by a wisp of common straw) were hardly so magnificent as might have been expected in one holding his position, it must be remembered that to keep one thousand coaches and coachmen, with double that number of coach-horses, must drain the longest purse; besides, we are not to expect the old country to keep pace altogether with the fashion and brilliancy of the new.

I had hardly arrived at the end of my store of oranges, when the train, that had stopped at two or three stations before, came to a halt with a great scream; and policemen, banging open the doors, told us this was Wolverton station, and that we might have ten minutes for tea and refreshment. It was about half-past eleven at night; and remembering that it was a good time for supper -how many a pleasant meal have we had at that hour in a certain cottage, not far from Winipeg River, in the Squampash country, West Tennessee!as it was a good time for supper, I descended and entered the refreshment - room, a long strip of building, with a long table in the midst covered with all the delicacies of the season, to be had at moderate prices. The table is served by at least forty of your enchanting sex; and, accordingly, from one of them, who giggled very much when I asked for a gin-sling, and told me

they kept no such thing, I was fain to accept a glass of sherry, a couple of Banbury cakes (which are something like our Passimaquoddy bannocks), and a large lump of pork-pie.

So provided, I jumped lightly into my seat again, taking a glance at the talkative member of parliament in the next carriage (a tall, pale, hooknosed man, in a fur cap, with a very pompous gold band to it), and in a few moments we were in motion again; and I sunk back to think of America, and to sleep.

I could scarcely have been asleep two hours when the whirring machine suddenly stopped, and the guards, as at Derby, yelled into the ears of all persons that here we stopped forty minutes for refreshment. 'Twas an early hour in the morning, but, sooth to say, a good meal never comes too soon; and entering one of the handsomest refreshment-rooms I ever saw, I discussed a grilled chicken and ham, with a bottle of Guinness's porter. The charge for the whole repast was seventy cents. It would have been one dollar twenty cents at Astor House, or at the hotel of your excellent father, the dear major.

By this I thought it was full time to go to sleep; and continued unremittingly in that occupation until we arrived at York, about seven o'clock, when an excellent breakfast of ham, hot rolls, eggs, tea and coffee, &c. awaited us after the fatigues of the night.

*

*

Fancy, then, that on a certain day in June we left York city, bound to some other city in some other county in England; but what the name of that county is no power on earth, no coaxing, and no tortures, shall induce us to tell. I have been absent eighteen days, and during those eighteen days I must have been somewhere -that's clear. Here, therefore, let curiosity pause, or content itself with partial satisfaction.

Let us call the principal town Stuffington. It stands by a little river, over which runs a fair bridge. It has an ancient church, with a soaring pointed spire; and a modern church, built so as to look far more ancient than the old one for the former is of the style of architecture of Henry VII's time, whereas the

latter is after the most rigid fashion of the Normans. In Stuffington is a market-place, where every Monday (I don't care to own to Monday; and the reader may go look at the list of market-days, if he likes, hoping to light upon the real name of the town in question). It has, I say, a marketplace, surrounded by great old brick houses, with small windows, such as were built in Queen Anne's reign, or haply a little earlier. Among these houses may be mentioned the Sun Inn, the Hat-and-Feather Inn, the Fleece, the Talbot, the Packhorse, the King's Arms Hotel and Posting House; and over the bridge, a little old-fashioned alehouse called the Granby, where lives (the landlady's daughter) one of the handsomest girls to be seen of a summer's day. To be sure, a summer's day in the north is a queer, satirical kind of summer's day. In my experience of eighteen days, we have had 17% of hard rain, 16 of severe cold, and such as may be called great-coat days. About the 8th of July the gardener produced his first dish of pease, and the strawberries are yet in blossom. Stuffington market is frequented by farmers and their cattle; great stalwart, drab-coloured Argyll oxen, long horns and short: numberless black-faced sheep, that are very good and crisp in the eating; and little queer black cattle, which we Cockneys seldom see-not much bigger than Newfoundland dogs; having the drollest little calves imaginable. You see that you are advancing towards Scotland. The little printshops in the town have cheap coloured pictures for the farmers, representing Jockie and Jeanie, Jamie and Mysie. Honest Robert Burns's noble face hangs over an alehouse door. The horsemen ride into town with black-and-white plaids strapped across their shoulders. And the stranger from the south will not fail to be struck by the great prevalence of auburn heads among the lasses that he sees. Every man of any taste will like these auburn locks, as I fancy

"Sweet auburn, loveliest ringlets of the plain,"

but rendering the pretty still prettier, I think. The writer of this, for his humble part, does not object

to downright carrots. Look at the complexions of the women bearing such head-pieces!-the rich, clear, laughing red and white!-they are generally healthy, full-limbed, redlipped, white-teethed, and goodhumoured.

A truce, however, to such observations. In the middle of the market lie the shambles, the depôts of coarse country cloths and potteries. Here is the horse-market. By it you may behold some fellows perched on a wagon, and singing hymns. It is the election that has probably brought these worthy people from their meeting-houses, to chant and discourse sub Jove. And wherefore not? Heaven knows, the independent electors have need of preaching and warning, and these itinerant sermonisers have reason enough for their talk. The town swarms with Bethels, Bethesdas, NewJerusalems, meeting-houses, and Dissenters' chapels of all sorts. In the suburbs are long rows of neat houses, with spotless shining windows and doorplates, and trim grass plats. In or behind these you see placid Quakers calmly disporting. Yonder are the tall chimneys of the factories. And every now and then you hear the screams of the railway steamengines, announcing the arrival of their loads of passengers or coal.

There is a great bustle of posthorses and coaches; more pass in an hour than you would see in a French town in a week. I saw a huge van, or omnibus, dash into the market,― a dismal-looking machine, that I thought was certainly a prisoner's van. But the landlord of the Sun, of whom I asked the question, turned away, laughing, with a contempt he could not disguise. The machine contained not prisoners, but racehorses; and a pretty figure does a Cockney cut in the north who does not know what such a vehicle means.

I have forgotten to mention the great edifice in the midst of the town of Stuffington-the town-hall. Let it suffice to say, that the mob broke every one of the windows on the day of the nomination.

All the phenomena carefully noted here were not, as you may fancy, made clear to me in a single day's observation. No, no. On the first day, as I entered, it was Friday, and the rain was coming down in tor

Yes,

rents. I ventured to say to a farmer in the coach (thinking there was no doubt of the fact), that it was exceedingly bad weather. The farmer looked at me with scornful wonder. "Bad weather!" says he; "it's the finest weather I ever knew in my life." Nor was this opinion of his at all intelligible to me, until afterwards, when I learned that the land had suffered greatly from drought, and had much need of all the moisture possible. Is there not a moral in this rebuke of the farmer? surely, the moral, that a gentleman should not talk of that which he does not understand. Be warned therefore, ye Cockneys. Ever since I was rebuked, I have, for my part, never ventured to give an opinion upon the weather in the country, without in the first place diligently inquiring what sort of weather it really was. This you can ask cursorily, and in any way, of the servant who brings the hot water of a morning; and if it be raining cats and dogs, as is almost sure to be the case, the man generally replies, "Well, it's a fine soft morning."

Nothing could exceed the "softness" of the day on which we reached Stuffington. It was not a marketday; the place was quite clear, except that in the middle was the band of one of the candidates, their shadows glancing to an immeasurable length along the glistering stones. They were playing windy martial tunes, headed by a fellow waving a grand white wand, and keeping time. Around the band were a few blackguard boys-a very few, and very dirty. Beyond this, not a soul in the street. Opposite, at the Fleece Inn, was a pink balcony, with

MR. BOUNCER'S COMMITTEE-ROOM written in pink letters overhead. You looked to the right, and saw Lord George Crawley's committeeroom, with a green and yellow balcony. Lord George is the second son of the Earl of Stuffington, whose noble ancestral palace, Guttlebury Castle, stands amidst thousands of acres of park, not far from Stuffing

ton town.

Being myself engaged to visit Mr. Britton (whose mansion, Britton Park, is about fifteen miles from Stuffington), modesty forbids me to say more than that he was the green